Ravensblood Forest I live here, now.

She was weird. Utterly, completely, irrevocably odd. Durnehviir had been expecting the golden wolfess to rise, to pull herself together and make an effort to reach out, but instead remained flopped pitifully on the forest floor. The crimson she-wolf frowned deeply, her nose scrunching, and emitted a soft snort of disapproval. 

Her questioned was answered, though the name was offered to a nearby rock and not to the mottled Frostfur herself. Iirritation itched at Durnehviir's hide, though she did not move to place herself within the other she-wolf's sight. Instead she remained solid in her place, tail lashing in cat-like frustration at her hocks.

"Is there a reason why are you just... laying there?" Durnehviir asked, annoyance in her tone as the bold guard hairs of her nape bristled.